by Barbara Paul
"Yes, sir. The surviving Zirgosians have formed a pro-tem governing committee, and they were more than happy to take the Gelchenite off my hands."
"I'll bet they were," McCoy muttered.
"Sir, can you tell us what to expect down on the surface?"
"Angry Sackers. Spock, fill her in, please." Kirk hurried into the transporter room, trailed by McCoy. Chekov was standing on the transporter platform, ready to beam down; Berengaria's security people were milling about, filling the area to near-capacity. Transporter Chief Kyle was taking phasers out of the arms locker. "Chekov, get down off that platform," Kirk called out, picking up his phaser and communicator from Kyle. "Security is beaming down first."
The navigator stepped down just as Spock and Berengaria came in; the latter headed straight toward Kirk. "May I have your communicator, sir." Kirk gave it to her. "I'm activating your distress beacon, silent mode. That way Mr. Kyle will be able to track you if we don't prove to be enough protection."
"You're saying we need more security?"
"Let me check out the beamdown point first. I'll be able to tell better when I've seen the place. But don't lose your communicator, sir." She was very emphatic about that. "Don't let it out of your possession for a minute. Do you understand?"
"I think so," Kirk smiled. "Don't take too long, Lieutenant. We're under a time limit."
"Right." She hurried to the transporter platform, snapping out orders as she went. Kyle started beaming the security people down, six at a time.
Kirk felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Spock looking concerned. "Jim, a suggestion. Keep your thumb on the emergency signal button of your communicator. I intend to remain here with Mr. Kyle, in case you need to make a precipitous departure. Do not wait to verify any suspicion you might have. Press the button immediately."
Kirk smiled at his old friend. "I'm not going to take any chances, Spock—don't worry. I shall be the epitome of caution and discretion."
"That's something I'd like to see," McCoy said dryly.
"Now, Bones. We'll have to talk to the Sackers from some distance anyway—the smell, remember. If they get too close, I have a feeling we'll all be beaming up mighty fast."
"This is a mistake, Jim," McCoy insisted. "You shouldn't be going at all."
"It is essential that we meet with the Sackers, Doctor," Spock pointed out. "They and only they hold the solution to the problem of how to stop the advancing heat front. If these are the only conditions under which they are willing to meet, then we have no choice but to accept them. With our own modifications, of course."
McCoy was working himself into a state. "It's wrong, I tell you," he snarled. "Something will go wrong. I … I feel it in my bones!"
Spock raised an eyebrow. McCoy glared at him belligerently, daring him to say something, ready to take on the entire crew of the Enterprise if necessary. Spock remained silent.
So did Captain James T. Kirk.
The transporter room door opened and Lieutenant Uhura walked in. She started to say something but noticed the dour looks on her shipmates' faces and thought better of it. She collected phaser and communicator and moved over to stand with Chekov, who greeted her by laying one finger against his lips. Transporter Chief Kyle found something urgent to busy himself with in the field equipment locker.
Almost ten minutes passed before Lieutenant Berengaria called in. Kirk stepped over to the control pod. "What's it like down there?"
"No Sackers in sight, sir. We can see their blister dome, and it's radiating heat we can feel from here. We're in an open area—not much cover, a few rocks and bushes."
"More security?"
"No, sir, there's no place for them to conceal themselves. We'll have to make do with what we have."
"Wonderful!" McCoy said through clenched teeth.
"Captain, we're in position now," Berengaria said. "You can beam down when ready."
Kirk waved an arm at Uhura and Chekov. "We're as ready as we'll ever be. Let's go."
The three positioned themselves on the transport pads. At the last moment Kirk thought of Lieutenant Berengaria's warning and slipped his communicator inside his tunic. "Energize, Mr. Kyle," he said.
Berengaria had posted a lookout about halfway to the Sacker dome, behind a small rise in the land, the only cover in the immediate area. So far the Sackers hadn't left their dome yet, if it was those Sackers they'd be meeting instead of the ones on the ship. She should have time to brief Captain Kirk as to where the members of her team were concealed.
The bushes hadn't proved much help—too thin and scraggly. They'd uprooted a number of them to combine with others, providing enough cover for four of her people. All the others were hunched down behind rocks that were too small, or stretched out on their stomachs behind hillocks that were too low. There wasn't a tree anywhere in sight; this part of Holox really was a wasteland. They could have dug in if they'd had more time, but the meeting hour set by the Sackers was almost upon them.
Berengaria was both edgy and curious. Like everyone else, she'd heard tales aplenty about the Sackers—most of them apocryphal, she had no doubt. Nevertheless, a certain amount of anxiety was to be expected when one was meeting for the first time a race of beings assiduously avoided by every other race in the galaxy. Fearsome they might be, but Berengaria sincerely doubted that they were phaser-proof. But if the phasers didn't do the trick, they'd brought along two photon grenade mortars that surely would.
She was the only one of the security team out in the open. She concentrated on not fidgeting, knowing the other team members were watching her. Then she spotted the shimmer in the air that meant a beamdown. The form of Captain Kirk and two others began to take shape. She stepped forward to meet them; but before she got there they faded out of sight again.
Berengaria whipped out her communicator. "Enterprise, come in."
"Enterprise."
"What happened? They were here and then they weren't. Did you have a malfunction?"
"No malfunction, Lieutenant," said Kyle's voice. "Please wait."
She waited.
"Lieutenant!" someone whispered.
"Hold your positions," she ordered sharply.
When next she heard from the Enterprise, it was Mr. Spock speaking. "Lieutenant Berengaria, summon your team and beam back aboard immediately."
"But what about the captain? If his party beamed down somewhere else, we'll have to form search teams to look for them."
"The captain is not on Holox, Lieutenant," Spock's unnaturally calm voice told her. "Captain Kirk is aboard the Sacker ship, as are the other two with him. Beam up immediately."
Chekov was throwing up all over the transporter platform. Uhura was down on her hands and knees, gagging. Captain Kirk was curled into a ball, trying to create a little pocket of air where he could breathe away from that overpowering, not-to-be-resisted, gut-wrenching, stomach-churning, heart-stopping, god-awful smell.
Kirk felt the taste of bile in his mouth, his sinuses, his nose; a war was being waged in his stomach, and he had to fight against passing out from wave after wave of nausea and dizziness. Sackers were around them everywhere, but Kirk kept his eyes averted; he knew if he looked at one of them directly, he'd be vomiting even harder than Chekov. He tried to check on Uhura but his vision was blurred; he struggled to his feet until a feeling very like vertigo brought him back to his knees.
And then a pain like nothing he'd ever felt before shot through both his ears—and it went on and on. Uhura and Chekov both screamed, but Kirk didn't hear them. A voice issuing from an apparatus strapped to the waist of one of the Sackers said, "Your translator!"—in a tone of reprimand. Kirk didn't hear that either; he was temporarily deafened.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw, but did not hear, the approach of two Sackers wearing waldoes. He tried to back away from them, but his legs had turned to rubber. One of the Sackers grabbed his arms with the waldoes and held him still while the other Sacker forced a liquid down his throat. It was thick an
d milky—an analgesic? Then a helmet was slapped over his head and Kirk found himself gulping in sweet, sweet oxygen. Gradually the furor in his stomach began to die down. His ears were still ringing and now his head pounded, an aftereffect of the pain in his ears. But he could live with that.
Chekov was sitting on the floor beside the transporter platform, his helmeted head down between his knees. Uhura was perched on the edge of the platform, gingerly touching the helmet resting on her shoulders. The helmets were shaded, Kirk noted, but he doubted if that would make the Sackers any more beautiful. He still couldn't bring himself to look at them directly. Unsteadily he made his way over to Uhura and put his hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked.
Uhura said something. He could see her lips moving, but he could hear no words.
"Can't hear you—maybe it's the helmets," Kirk answered … and realized he couldn't hear himself either.
The expression on Uhura's face told him the same realization had just come to her as well. Kirk whirled around and faced the Sackers for the first time.
They were all cloaked, with hoods pulled forward over their faces. Only the scabrous hands that showed confirmed the identity of their captors as Sackers. "What have you done to us?" Kirk yelled, without hearing.
A grayish-blue hand that looked decayed enough to be falling off held out a stylus pad to him. Only three words were written there: Deafness will pass.
Kirk took the stylus pad and showed it to Uhura. When she nodded, he took it to Chekov. The young navigator's lips formed the word "Deafness?" He hadn't realized.
The Sackers were stirring around, moving slowly. Two of them held weapons, which they used to gesture toward a turbolift. A lift right in the transporter room, Kirk thought, automatically beginning to memorize the layout of the ship.
He and Uhura and Chekov were herded into the turbolift, and the doors closed after them. They were alone, a fact for which each of them rendered silent thanks. They looked at one another helplessly, unable to communicate and not knowing what awaited them when the lift completed its ascent.
What awaited them was four armed Sackers. One of them gestured imperiously, revealing a black arm with streaks of green running through it. Kirk and the other two stepped off the turbolift and followed the black Sacker down a corridor much wider and higher than any on the Enterprise. They were led to a stateroom and again left alone.
The room was stiflingly hot. A coffin-shaped vat stood in one corner. Other than that, it was an ordinary enough stateroom—slightly oversized tables and chairs, a console, something that might possibly be artwork on the walls. An open door revealed a washroom-toilet with a sonic shower. Three air mattresses with blankets folded on them were on the floor. Kirk went over and looked in the vat; it was filled with a pale green viscous material. Was that what Sackers slept in? Was the vat a Sacker bed?
Uhura sat down at the console and tried it. She raised her hands, palms up. Disconnected.
Chekov activated the door to the corridor and found himself facing an armed Sacker. He smiled wanly and closed the door.
Kirk cautiously lifted the helmet from his head—and hurriedly put it back on again. They might be alone, but the reek of Sacker was still in the air. The place was obviously an officer's quarters, vacated for their benefit. The air mattresses and blankets indicated they'd be staying a while. So they're not planning to kill us right away, Kirk thought. Why? He felt a rivulet of sweat running down his back.
Chekov pulled out a chair from a table and sat down, carelessly banging the chair against the bulkhead. Kirk heard it. "Did you hear that?" he asked. Chekov made no response, but Kirk heard a kind of buzz from behind him. He turned to see Uhura mouthing I heard it! So their hearing was coming back.
Kirk plopped down on one of the air mattresses and leaned back against the bulkhead as well as he could; the helmet made it awkward. So now they'd met the Sackers. Physically they were even more disgusting than the Enterprise's record banks had led him to believe; no wonder every world in the Federation dreaded their visits. And no wonder there'd been no advance in human-Sacker relations in over fifty years. How could you carry on negotiations with a race that, just by being in the same room with you, made you want to puke?
It was almost an hour before they were able to talk to one another. All three of their uniforms were stained with sweat, but they'd been unable to find a temperature control. "They want something of us," Kirk said. "But what? Why did they kidnap us?"
"Ransom?" Chekov suggested with an expression that indicated he didn't believe his own suggestion. "Vhile they are in the process of burning up the uniwerse? It cannot be."
"No, something else."
Uhura said, "Perhaps they're planning to use us as emissaries of some sort? Since they, ah, offend human beings themselves, perhaps they want to negotiate through agents that don't make other races throw up at the sight of them."
"Negotiate vith whom?" Chekov asked. "And for vhat?"
"With Starfleet Command, probably," Kirk answered. "That's not a bad suggestion, Uhura. What they want is anybody's guess. But with an exploding universe to use as a weapon, I'd say they had a pretty good chance of getting it."
"They took our phasers and communicators," Chekov said. "Ve can't fight them and ve can't call for help."
Kirk felt inside his tunic; his communicator was still there. He started to tell the others but stopped. For all he knew, the Sackers were listening to every word they said. And watching them. "Look for microphones," he told the other two. "And cameras. Any kind of bugging device."
They gave the room a thorough going-over but could find nothing. They were still looking when the door to their room opened. The tallest Sacker they'd seen yet walked in, rather grandly wrapped in a blazing scarlet cloak. Two other Sackers followed, both wearing black cloaks and both armed. One hand holding a weapon showed yellow fluid inside the sac, the other was gray. Kirk and the other two instinctively backed away from the door.
The red-cloaked Sacker spoke. "Your hearing has returned?" The voice was female.
"Yes," said Kirk. "What do you want with us?"
"The deafness was a mistake. One of us neglected to connect his translator correctly. It was the sound of his voice that deprived you of your hearing."
"You're speaking through a translator? That's not your own voice we're hearing?"
"The answer to both questions is yes. The voices we use when speaking to humans are computer-simulated."
"The voice coming out of the translator is female. Are you female?"
"I am female."
"Let me see the translator," Kirk demanded, and heard Uhura gasp.
The red Sacker didn't answer immediately. "To show you the translator, it would be necessary for me to remove my hood. We wear these garments to shield your eyes."
"Most considerate kidnappers I've ever met," Kirk said sharply. "Thank you—we appreciate the courtesy. Now show me the translator."
The Sacker did nothing for a moment; then she reached up and slowly pushed back her hood.
Chekov and Uhura immediately turned their heads away, but Kirk forced himself to keep his eyes on the Sacker. Gradually Chekov's head turned back; Uhura was the last, but eventually she looked too.
What they saw was the head of a seven-foot-plus creature whose molty-looking membranous sac was filled with bright red fluid streaked with gray here and there. Her brain looked red too, perhaps because it had to be viewed through the fluid as well as a semi-opaque skull. What caused the three from the Enterprise the most trouble was the sight of the little, white wormlike creatures moving around inside the brain. There were even some in the Sacker's face. Uhura and Chekov were both making noises of dismay. Kirk thought his original guess that the wormlike things were chemical messengers was probably right. His stomach was churning again, but he was determined not to let this big red monster see his distress.
Over the lower half of her face the Sacker was wearing an apparatus that was attached by two thin c
ables to another apparatus strapped to her waist. She pointed to the box. "The voice comes from here." She pressed a button and the voice emanating from the box spoke gibberish. She pressed the button again and said, "That time I was speaking our language. There will be occasions on which we will need to speak among ourselves in your presence. For that reason our translators have been equipped with a muting device, so that our voices will not cause you pain."
She paused. No one said anything. Then Chekov spoke up. "Ve thenk you," he said formally.
That was what she was waiting for. "You are welcome. We wear these translators for your benefit. And these outer garments also, for so long as is necessary."
"And how long is that going to be?" Kirk asked. "Why have you brought us here?"
"You are the captain of the Enterprise?"
"I am."
The Sacker pointed a red hand at Chekov. "You?"
"Navigator."
"And you?"
"Communications officer."
The Sacker wagged her head from side to side in a gesture they would come to recognize as the Sacker equivalent of a nod. "Your name is James T. Kirk, correct?"
"Correct. Who are you?"
"Their names, please?"
"Lieutenant Uhura and Ensign Chekov," Kirk said, indicating with a gesture which was which.
The Sacker slowly made her way over to stand directly in front of Uhura—who trembled a little but held her ground. The Sacker looked her over carefully, as if inspecting her for leaks. "You are a female?"
"You better believe it, Babe," Uhura said firmly.
The Sacker twitched and took a step closer. "Babe … baby? You call me a baby?"
"Uh, no," Uhura replied wide-eyed. "I'm not calling you anything. Babe … well, it's just a sort of nickname, that's all."
"Name? Do you say 'name'?"
"Yes," Uhura replied uneasily.
"Babe." Again the head-waggling gesture. "I am the commander of this vessel."
"So vhat is your name?" Chekov asked.
"You have heard. Babe."
Kirk made a quick gesture to silence the other two. "Commander Babe," he said, somehow managing to keep a straight face, "why are we here?"